


Write her down, dummy

by Zoesiapie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bill Weasley - Freeform, Brothers, Charlie Weasley - Freeform, Christmas Fluff, Cute, F/M, Laughter, Love, Love Confessions, Love Letters, Three brother, Traslation, You heard it right, burrow, drunk, fred weasley - Freeform, hard work, soft spot, sorrynotsorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-17 09:01:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28597380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zoesiapie/pseuds/Zoesiapie
Summary: "You know what home is like during the holidays," he explains, leaning against the doorframe as Fred slides off the shirt he's wearing and uncovers the avalanche of freckles covering his shoulders, "Too full of people," he insinuates, watching his brother disappear into the closet."Noisy." He adds this, as soon as his face peeks out from the collar of a gray t-shirt."And annoyingly chaotic." concludes Charlie, facing Fred's room with a couple of beers in hand and a wide grin, "Said the way we said it, it doesn't seem to be all that different than usual.""No, not really," the twin agrees with him, crossing his arms over his chest, "That is, unless you decide to write something to someone.""Tonks would be the type to make the Burrow even more chaotic than it already is," Bill nods, snatching one of the two bottles from his middle brother's hand, "You should invite her to Christmas."
Relationships: Fleur Delacour/Bill Weasley, Hermione Granger/Fred Weasley, Nymphadora Tonks/Charlie Weasley
Comments: 4
Kudos: 61





	Write her down, dummy

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Dovresti scriverle](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/738957) by Sia_. 



December, 1999 

[ _Write her down, dummy, it's the wine's fault_ ]

As the last customer exits, George drops dead weight onto the store counter, "Never again," he implores in a muffled voice.

"Never again, until tomorrow." His twin corrects him, putting his shirt sleeve back in place at elbow level, "Just a little more effort, then we could take a break." 

"Remind me, brother, when exactly did we think it was a wonderful idea to keep an extra hour open around the holidays?" the face of George pokes out from under one arm, "Because at this very moment, after I've lived that hour, I think it's stupid."

"When have we ever made good decisions, is the real question." Fred paints the tone of his voice with irony, as with a wave of his wand he locks the door to the store and stops the little train. "Your silence says a lot." 

"My silence says I'm tired," retorts the other, finally getting up from the counter to retrieve the cape tossed on a chair in the middle of the day. 

"I wonder if you'll be tired when you get to Angelina's house, too." He taunts him, crossing his arms over his chest.

George shakes his head in amusement, "You sure you don't need a hand to finish closing? I have a few more minutes before I have to go" he finally tells him, checking the time on the watch on her wrist. 

"Go on, don't worry." Fred has his back to him and he perfectly hears the sound of his brother dematerializing and lifting some dust from the top shelves. He lets a tired smile escape, heading for the stairs with heavy steps: it's only been an extra hour, but it feels like he's been working for two weeks without a break. He shuffles back to the apartment, turning off the store lights with an unspoken incantation. 

He slumps to the couch, hiding his face under his arm, "Enough," he whispers to the void as his back abruptly adjusts to the comfortable surface he's leaning against, "Enough." That prayer would work too, in fact he could sit in that position all night to gather strength with which to drag himself to the store the next morning, but it would only work in a universe where he doesn't have six other siblings: as an answer to her lament, the fireplace comes on in a gust of fire and footsteps come to fill the living room. 

"Whoever came, absolutely not," he declares, "I'm not going to listen to a single word or do anything." 

"I know a bunch of people who would pay top dollar to see this scene," Bill grins, turning to Charlie who rolls his eyes in amusement, "Fred Weasley having no energy, Mum couldn't believe it if he was here." 

"Very funny." the twin finally decides to look at the brothers who have invaded his home, "Call whoever you want, I'm not moving." 

"We definitely need to inform Mcgonagal first." Charlie starts counting with his fingers, "Then we'll write to mom and Hermione." 

"Ah, the three women in my life." Fred's face turns a wicked grimace and realizes too late that Bill has pulled his pillow leaning against the chair, "What have I done?" he complains, clutching the weapon he's just been hit with. 

"I was defending Ginny's honor, she would have definitely beaten you up if she was here," he points out, approaching him in wide strides and forcing Fred to sit up a little straighter on the couch to make room for him, "There are four women in your life." 

"Do you count Angelina as a woman in your life?" inquires Charlie, "That would be five in that case." 

Fred lets a deep desperate sigh escape, "What do you want?" 

"We were bored at the Burrow, so we thought we'd drop in on our favorite twins, but I guess George already had something planned," Bill confesses, sinking into the backrest.

"I had plans too, to decompose on this couch all night." He curses them with his eyes, unbuttoning the top button of his shirt and then loosening his tie. 

Charlie laughs, "Sure, understandable... Do you have any beer?" he asks, opening the refrigerator door, "If mom looked in here, she'd force you to move back home: it's a desolation." 

"It's a bleakness because you've been coming over for dinner for two nights now," blurts out the twin, finally untying the knot in his tie, "As if you're not going to be guests at the Burrow for the next few weeks." he gets up from the couch to go to his room to change and Bill follows him amused. 

"You know what home is like during the holidays," he explains, leaning against the doorframe as Fred slides off the shirt he's wearing and uncovers the avalanche of freckles covering his shoulders, "Too full of people," he insinuates, watching his brother disappear into the closet.

"Noisy." He adds this, as soon as his face peeks out from the collar of a gray t-shirt.   


"And annoyingly chaotic." concludes Charlie, facing Fred's room with a couple of beers in hand and a wide grin, "Said the way we said it, it doesn't seem to be all that different than usual." 

"No, not really," the twin agrees with him, crossing his arms over his chest, "That is, unless you decide to write something to someone."

"Tonks would be the type to make the Burrow even more chaotic than it already is," Bill nods, snatching one of the two bottles from his middle brother's hand, "You should invite her to Christmas." 

"You should invite her to Christmas," Charlie mimics him shaking his head, "It's not like it's that easy, you think I haven't tried already?" he confesses, blushing a little on his cheeks, "I've been trying to get something down for at least two nights now, but nothing works." 

"Oh, you've tried writing to her." Fred blinks quickly, creeping between the two of them to reach the kitchen and retrieve a third beer. "What's so hard about telling a girl to spend Christmas at your house with your whole family?" 

"You hit the nail on the head." 

"Come on, Charlie, you've done a lot worse during your years at Hogwarts," Bill prods him with amusement, "It's just a letter." 

"I don't know if your opinion is worth, I can see how you stumble when Fleur, your wife, turns around to whisper something in your ear: I bet if you had to invite her to the Burrow you'd have the same problems I do." 

"Are you challenging me?" he asks, raising an eyebrow. 

"I'll only write to Tonks if you write to your darling little wife," Charlie confirms, "And since she's already at our house, I'll make you tell her the most embarrassing, intimate, romantic thing you can think of."

Fred laughs, leaning against the fridge, "Now that's funny, I can finally accept that you guys have been bothering me," he chimes in, bringing the glass bottle to his lips to take a sip, "So Bill, are you going to write her?" 

"I'll write her," he states amused, "You'll have to write Hermione, though." 

"Hermione?" 

This time it's Charlie who laughs, "The third and beloved woman in your life, did you think no one noticed? Every time you came home this summer, you were playing cat and mouse." 

"You were the mouse, for the record," Bill clarifies, tilting his beer bottle toward his twin, "I could swear I even saw you blush once." 

Fred barely retracts, tightening his lips, "She had advised me... I mean, her that, her suggesting a joke and... Never mind." he cuts it short, as the memory of Hermione's lips resting on the corner of his mouth doesn't help him calm down, "What should I write to her?"

"She's already at the Burrow too, she arrived with Ginny a few days ago for Christmas break," Charlie notes, tilting his head, "I suppose it would be too wicked to make you write your feelings down on paper and in any case, whatever you want to write her would be able to surprise her since you never write to anyone." 

Bill downs the rest of his beer in one gulp, "Where do you keep your ink?"

"I think we're going to need a few more bottles too, Fred," Charlie exhorts with a laugh, moving the drink in his hands.

"We've got a supply of both in stock, don't worry." 

  


￦

  


[ _If you just take one look, you're a kid again_ ]

Charlie taps his fingers on Fred and George's kitchen table, still undecided on what to add in closing. Bill is in a similar predicament, his third bottle of beer resting against his lips, staring at the parchment - _the fifth parchment he's tried to write her, for Merlin!_

"I'm one step away from giving it up," declares the smaller of the two, rising from his chair in a fit of anxiety, "I look like a three year old, I can't send that stuff to her."

"You are a three year old, Charlie," Bill encourages him, setting his drink down on the table and signing his letter, "Given Tonks then, I think you've found the right style." 

They both laugh, shaking their heads: how the hell did they end up drunk at the twins' house writing love letters? The point is, they never know how they get to do certain things, and every once in a while it's nice to try to go back to when they were just eighteen years old on average.

"Where's Fred?" asks Bill at that point, getting up from the table as well.

Charlie points with a wave of his hand to the couch in the living room, "He collapsed half an hour ago, after writing his letter in thirty seconds and making fun of us for being so slow." 

"I wonder if he even wrote anything?" the older brother asks himself, crossing his arms over his chest, "Where did he put it?" he then asks Charlie, smiling mischievously. 

"He's clutching it to his chest, I already thought of that." 

Bill bites his lip, "You think we lost the touch? We were phenomenal at retrieving the things he and George used to sleep with as kids." 

"We can try." Charlie shrugs and takes the pillow in his hands, "The upside is that he's drunk, the downside is that we're drunk too." 

Bill laughs softly, "In the closet he still has his favorite stuffed animal, I saw it earlier, let's use that."

When Charlie returns from the room amused, William approaches Fred with a plush stride, "Two seconds," he whispers, wrinkling his eyebrows, quickly managing to slip the letter out and wedge the teddy bear into his arms, "And there you go, we're still unsurpassed," he boasts, waving the parchment in the air.

Charlie picks it up and reads it, " _I can't believe it_." 

Bill clasps his hands together with a thud, "He's always one step ahead of everyone, there's nothing you can do about it," he admits, turning back to look at Fred who is smilingly clutching his teddy bear, "Charlie, do you know if they have anything to take pictures of here? I think I finally found what Christmas present to give Hermione."

  


￦

  


[ _Write her dumb, that takes courage_ ]

"Dora, I've been trying to gather the courage to invite you to the Burrow for Christmas for a few days now." Tonks holds the letter tightly in her hand as she runs away from Charlie who is chasing her around the living room. 

"It's not like you need to read it out loud!" he tells her again, embarrassed. 

Nymphadora shakes her head, "Here comes my favorite part, shut up." she jumps up on the couch and rests her hand on the shoulder of the wizard who by now seems to have resigned himself and rolls his eyes, "I think the Burrow is home, you know, but with you it would be a little bigger home, like huge because you're... "

"Not that." he stops her, squeezing her legs together and lifting her into the air, "You've ridiculed me enough for now." he spins her around the room and she laughs. 

"Put me down, Charlie." she begs him, "I swear I'll stop, I'll stop." she coaxes him, closing the letter in her hand as soon as it hits the floor. "I'm glad you invited me," she finally confesses, "And also that you wrote me a letter, as drunk as I think you were."

"Oh, I was," he confirms, nodding, "And thank goodness I was, it's nice to have you here." 

Tonks smiles, clutching Charlie's sweater in her hands, "It's good to be here." 

  


￦

  


[ _And they weigh, they kill, these fucking I love you's_ ]

"I think ton frère is kissing Nymphadora in the living room." Fleur enters their room on the second floor, holding a hand over her belly, which is still quite flat, but already showing the first hints of a small life: for now she hides it under wide sweaters, trying to be careful not to be too conspicuous, she knows that Bill hasn't yet found the courage to announce it to the family. 

"Oh yeah?" Bill smiles, "Did you see them?" 

"It would have been hard not to see them, Tonks' hair keeps changing couleur and I was mesmerized." She admits, ending up mellowing too: every time she returns to the Burrow there is always something magical and every corner hides a feeling of love. "I read the letter." she confesses then, blushing on her cheeks: as much as they've been married for so long now, as much as they've faced a world together and are expecting a child, Bill is still able to cause her a disruptive effect - he loves her like she's the only thing in the world, he makes every moment worth living. 

"Before you say anything: I was drunk." 

"I figured that out on my own." Fleur laughed and moved closer to him, crossing her hands behind his neck, "But I don't think your words lose their value." 

"I love you, mon petite fluer," he whispers on her lips, holding her carefully, "I love you so much." 

  


_The waves crashing on the beach are you, the rays of the sun are you, the wind on your skin is you._

_You are everything, you are everything. And I love you like it was the first day I started loving you - I wouldn't know what to do if I didn't have you in my life._

_p.s about the baby, should we tell everyone one night? I'm really not afraid if you're with me._

_p.p.s I love you._

  


￦

  


_[Write her dumb, three words in a row]_

" _A mouse_?" Hermione struggles to ask, she's waited two days to give him a chance to explain, but it's clear at that point that Fred has no intention of making her understand anything, as usual. 

"Oh," the twin exclaims, only to laugh, "I completely forgot!" he declares, taking the letter from her hand, "It took you quite a while to read it, even though it's one line." 

"I'm the mouse, it's barely a sentence." Hermione throws her hands up in the air, "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" she's exasperated, but it's hard to forget how excited she was the day that piece of parchment landed on her desk. 

"I was drunk," Fred confesses to her, setting the letter down on the table, "So it shouldn't mean anything, because I was drunk." 

"Oh." this time to exclaim something is Hermione, but she's more disappointed than surprised. 

"I mean, it's a stupid thing Bill had said and I didn't know what to write to you, but then I thought it would be okay because I never write anything to anyone." 

"What did Bill tell you?"

Fred looked at her for a few seconds, then took the initiative to touch a strand of her hair at collarbone level, "That I'm the mouse and you're the cat." 

"Was he drunk too?" she asks, blushing barely on her cheeks as the twin's fingers go for her skin and stroke under her eye. 

"Not at the time, no," he whispers to her, "Even if he was, he still opened my eyes somehow." 

"About me being the cat and you being the mouse?" 

"About the fact that I like you, in an absolutely incalculable way." 

Hermione smiled, her heart beginning to vibrate, it was playing a new tune, "It's lucky then that I like you in the exact incalculable way," she finally replied to him, moving a few steps closer first and rising up on her toes later to seek his lips. The second kiss he demanded. 

  


_Write her dumb, a better ending_

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This story is a translation, something I'm not so good at. If there are any errors, please let me know ❤.  
> Song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RVqTYJ-PCCQ


End file.
